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TRP: Hansel and Mishka (Hideaway)
Izzy: at 6:04 PM Fuck. Mishka was gone. All right, maybe it was fine -- maybe he'd just ducked into Hansel's room, like Hansel had asked. Of course not. The room was empty. Emptier than usual, actually, and it took Hansel a second to realize that it was because his blanket was missing, not tangled in his hammock as it normally was -- and when that made him look around a second time, he saw the note. Fucking Mishka and his fucking notes. I'm fine. Need to calm down for a moment. Well, he could've fucking done that where Hansel had asked him to. (Or Hansel could have avoided doing something that would upset him. Fuck. Fuck.) All right. Calm. Deep breaths. He was pretty sure they were far enough from shore that Mishka wouldn't be able to get off the ship. He was nearby. Hansel tried to tell himself that was enough, pacing the few steps back and forth in his room that he could. Mishka wanted to be alone. He'd fucked up and driven him away; he should leave him alone. Let him come back when he wanted to, if he wanted to. He worried the note between his fingers. I'm fine. The fucker didn't even have to talk to lie. He searched the ship from top the bottom. Didn't seem too fucking likely Mishka would hide out in the crow's nest, but he had to be thorough. Nowhere on the top deck, or in the common room or anywhere else on the main deck -- Hansel considered he might be in Nixie's quarters, but he didn't want to knock on her door and disturb her to find out. He'd do that last, if he had to. Not in the galley, or any of the unoccupied bunk rooms. Seemed a given he wouldn't be in Goro's room, or Roddy's. Then all that was left was the hold, and Hansel couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Mishka could just turn invisible if he didn't want Hansel to find him, and maybe he didn't -- obviously he didn't -- and Hansel shouldn't fucking bother him. His hands were shaking. Of course Mishka didn't want to be around him. He just didn't have a choice right now, and he had been sticking close to Hansel this far just to keep an eye on him, and he'd be a fucking idiot to think there was another reason. He sat down heavily on the stairs leading down to the hold, folding over himself. Goddammit. Fuck. Mishka was gone. Coyote: at 6:10 PM Over in the pile of crates, there were near-silent taps. Pumpkin slipped out between a gap about a foot wide, hidden at the bottom of the pile. He inspected Hansel for a bit, then padded over, twined around Hansel's legs-- then, losing interest-- sauntered off again, back to the pile. Now that the foot-wide gap was obvious, it was easier to see. Someone had arranged the pile to create a hollow spot inside-- leaving a gap for Pumpkin to come in and out as he pleased. Izzy: at 6:23 PM The fucking cat. Hansel still didn't know if he liked him or not, but seeing him calmed him down slightly. It had been kind of nice, having Pumpkin around when Mishka had been gone -- he'd acted a little more like he'd liked Hansel then, but ignored him completely since Mishka had been back. It was Mishka's cat, after all. ... It was Mishka's fucking cat. He watched Pumpkin pad over to a stack of crates that looked a bit haphazard at first, like they'd topple over if the ship lurched into motion. He blinked through the darkness of the hold and the bleariness of his eyes and saw the purposeful little gap, like a cat flap in a door. And then he didn't know what to do. Mishka was here, definitely -- he'd made a new little panic room since they'd dragged him out of the one he'd had before. It should be enough to know that. He was here. He was safe. He didn't want to be with Hansel. But fuck -- he couldn't make himself go back up the stairs now. Hansel crossed the creaking hold as quietly as he could and sat down, legs folded under him, across from the stack, leaning back again the bulkhead. He'd wait, he guessed. He could wait. If Mishka wanted to tell him to fuck off, at least he'd be talking to him. Coyote: at 6:35 PM Mishka woke in a small, dark space with a jolt. He blinked blearily. He was folded up, resting against something... wooden?.... wrapped in a thick blanket that smelled like his husband. And then he remembered that no, Hansel wasn't his husband anymore, and his brain caught up with where he was and what he was doing here. Ah. The hold. Right. He'd... he'd come down here after... shit, he wasn't going to think about it again, or he was going to have another fucking panic attack, and then he'd be stuck down here another hour. Pumpkin lay in his lap, purring. Mishka patted the cat absently, then gently shifted him aside. Silently, Mishka pushed aside the crate he'd moved in front of his little entrance, then stepped out. The hold was dark; the lantern that normally lit it had run out of oil. There was a person sitting across from the crates, in full view of him. There was a person around him while he slept. For a split second, that felt like a jagged knife of fear (what if someone put one of those larvae in his mouth again? No, they wouldn't, there were none on the ship that anyone could find. He'd let his guard down for one fucking minute and someone had done that to him. Fuck.) And then Mishka realized: Oh. It was just Hansel. Asleep. Hansel looked tired in the dim light. Of course he was. It was getting harder to be around Hansel. A lot harder. But Mishka had to do what Mishka had to do. He bent, shaking Hansel lightly by the shoulder. "Hansel. Neyë. Come to bed." Izzy: at 6:42 PM Hansel jerked, a hand falling to his axe automatically. He hadn't meant to fall asleep -- he was supposed to keep watch -- he was just ... so fucking exhausted. But he didn't really think he was awake now. His captain was leaning over him, touching his shoulder, telling him to come. It was a dream, a memory. Maybe a nightmare. He couldn't be sure yet. His voice came out low and scratchy. "What?" Coyote: at 6:44 PM "You're asleep in the hold. Come here. Upstairs. To bed. You have a room with a hammock, apparently?" Mishka offered his hand, even though Hansel outweighed him by a fair margin. (He probably ought to give the blanket back.) Izzy: at 6:46 PM The hold. Hammock. What. He was awake. Mishka was here and he was awake, on the Sugar Glider, and everything that had happened between that night and this one had been real, for better or worse. He swallowed. His voice still wasn't right. "It's fine. Wherever -- wherever you're comfortable. Doesn't matter to me." Coyote: at 6:53 PM I need you to stay away from me. Mishka practiced the words in his head, ran over them again. He couldn't fucking... be around Hansel. It was worse with him, worse away from him. Wanted to be around Hansel all the time, because that made him feel safe, but wanted to be far away, so he didn't have to fucking think about all the ways he... fucked this up. (He could remember, vividly, the things Diva showed him. Cutting off pieces of Hansel until Hansel bled out.) (Husband, Hansel had said.) Nope. He wasn't thinking about that or dealing with that. He was doing what he had to right now. Sleeping. Okay. How was he going to sleep? Fuck. Hansel can't sleep here. "How about this," Mishka said. "You take the hammock. I'll sleep on the floor in your room. We'll think of something better in the morning." Izzy: at 6:58 PM "Why the fuck would I let you sleep on the floor?" He'd blame it on being half asleep -- he could've said something a bit more diplomatic than that. Either way, he pushed himself up a little shakily, not taking Mishka's offered hand. He knew Mishka didn't really want to touch him. His shoulders ached from driving the trident he still wore on his back clean through the love of his life and into the deck of the ship. Why the fuck would Mishka want to touch him? Coyote: at 7:02 PM "Because I said so," Mishka said. "Look, I'll keep the blanket and you take the hammock. It's my blanket. I've decided now." Feeling a bit stung as Hansel ignored his hand. Mishka covered it with the usual indifferent sense of humor. He dropped his hand. Izzy: at 7:06 PM Hansel ignored his suggestion. He wasn't having Mishka sleep on the fucking floor. "There's a bunk room. No one else sleeps there -- there's plenty of beds. Can you do that?" Coyote: at 7:12 PM Mishka thought it over. He'd already checked out the bunk room; only one entrance, but multiple windows, but that was okay, there were small portholes, nothing big enough for anyone to get through. Still too large for him, though, still too--open. He needed things between him and the door, he needed time to wake up if someone came in. I can do that if you are also sleeping in the room. It was the truth. If there were beds, why not just share one? That was what Mishka preferred. He didn't think he could sleep as well, otherwise. Mishka closed his eyes. He was so fucking tired, and Hansel was too. Who fucking cared if someone saw them lying in bed together? They could assume what they liked; it didn't matter. It felt like being ripped in half, though, because Mishka wanted that, fucking wanted it, to just lie in Hansel's arms again, like it was easy the way it used to be, and at the same time, knew with complete certainty he couldn't handle it. Mishka wet his lips. They were alone in the hold, and everyone else was probably asleep-- maybe someone on watch upstairs, on deck, but who knew-- and Mishka couldn't take it anymore. "You," he said, and then he stopped. "You called me husband." Twice. Izzy: at 7:20 PM Hansel expected an argument. He was already primed for it, trying to mentally lay out what he could say that might convince Mishka to just let him win -- they were both too fucking tired to fight, but he figure he could still out-stubborn the motherfucker. He didn't expect -- that. "Yeah." He didn't know what else to say. Hadn't really thought about it at the time. Hadn't thought about the fact that Mishka could hear him, then. Coyote: at 7:27 PM "Don't--" Don't say that, don't use that word, please, fucking don't. Don't call me sweetheart or husband or any other fucking pet name, it's torture. I can't handle it. Please. He didn't say that, though. Too much to talk about here. Mishka sorted through his thoughts and struggled to start with the easiest. He sat down on a crate, like the last time they'd been here, when he had Hansel take the other half of the truth serum. "I'm sorry about-- the rapier. You didn't... know. You know, when I'm-- fighting people, and there's more of them than me, you know, I'm-- easy to overwhelm. The rapier. I bought it. A few weeks ago. To help with that. Look, I'm really fucked up, Hansel, I'm sorry. I'm trying to keep it together, I swear to fucking god I am--" He stopped there, struggling.(edited) Izzy: at 7:38 PM God, Hansel just wanted to hold him. He just wanted to fix this -- or find some way to make it better, even if it could only be temporarily. It killed him that he couldn't. He wasn't fucking allowed. He couldn't make anything fucking better. But it killed him to see Mishka -- fucking Mishka -- struggle for words. He always had words, and usually too many, but they didn't come out like this -- jumbled and repeated and cut off. "It's fine, it's fine," he said hastily, taking a step closer and reaching out automatically but stopping. "Roddy'll get over it." Might take a while, and a couple more talks, but Hansel was sure he would. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't've -- it doesn't matter." He just fucking wanted to touch him. Ached for it. Touch his soft cheek and kiss his forehead and tell him he didn't have to keep it together, it would be okay, Hansel would take care of him, Hansel would be there. But why torture him like that? As if he'd want Hansel to be there. He'd already told him off for slipping up and calling him husband, and it reminded Hansel of the handful of times he'd accidentally called him motek earlier in the day. Fucking stupid. "Look, none of us are doing a great fucking job of keeping it together," he said instead, strained. "I don't know why you think you have to. You've had it worse than the rest of us." Coyote: at 7:41 PM "I don't want to be another-- fucking child you have to take care of." And then remembered he was about five seconds from asking Hansel to sleep with him in bed so Mishka could calm down. Like a kid in a thunderstorm. "You're already taking care of everyone you can," Mishka said. Izzy: at 7:44 PM "Taking care of you isn't fucking work for me, Mishka," he snapped, barely not calling him something else. His hands were shaking again. He curled them into fists to try to stop it. Didn't work. "Let me fucking help you. Fuck." Coyote: at 7:55 PM Slow breaths. Seven counts in, seven counts out. He needed to calm down before he started saying things that were really fucking stupid. That was why he had left before. "Don't," he said, instead. And it tore out of him, all of it, before he could stop it. "You've already helped me enough. You-- you told me you'd get it out of me, and you did. I emotionally tortured you when you were weak for months because-- because it fucking suited me, Hansel, even though you didn't deserve it, not even a little. You are the last person that deserved any of that. And I--" I can't handle being around you. I love you. I love you. I've already told you that. I gave you a note because I couldn't say it to your fucking face. "You shouldn't be helping me," Mishka said. "Stop helping me. Stop calling me husband and motek like you used to, like you still love me, because you don't, you fucking don't. You don't love me and you don't care about me, you shouldn't, and I can't-- fucking figure out why you keep helping me, why you--" Hansel was helping him, Mishka realized, because Hansel was a good person, and that was the sort of thing Hansel did. Hansel picked people up like stray animals and cared for them whether they deserved it or not. And Mishka couldn't handle it anymore. Izzy: at 8:06 PM "Mishka, shut the fuck up." His voice cracked. Hansel wanted to grab him and shake him but just threw his hands up incredulously instead. "Stop fucking saying shit. I love you. What the fuck? Of course I love you, you fucking idiot. What are you talking about? I did all of this shit because I fucking love you and I needed you back." He hated the tremble in his voice. "I was so fucking scared of losing you again." He swallowed hard and took a couple steps back. That was too much. He shouldn't've said that. He needed to stop saying things. It was always wrong, and now he was fucking crying, and Mishka would make fun of him and probably crack away because he wasn't someone who could abide being needed. Their marriage had been a lark. Mishka had never wanted Hansel to need him. "I'm -- sorry," he forced out. It wouldn't be enough. Nothing would be enough. Coyote: at 8:19 PM Oh, thank god. He shouldn't feel happy he upset Hansel. He shouldn't be pleased right now; the man had enough to deal with, and now Mishka was throwing this awful burden on him too. The things Hansel said made no sense; Mishka had already examined the situation from every angle and determined very logically that there was no way Hansel ought to love him. But Hansel doesn't lie. Hansel never lied to him. Later. He'd think about it later. And, with a jolt, Mishka realized his husband was crying. Mishka glanced around. No one around, still. No one to see Hansel upset. That was okay. That was good. Mishka made a decision, took a few steps forward, took Hansel's face in his hands, made Hansel look at him. "Hey," Mishka said. "Hansel. I know I said this before, but-- I really fucking mean it. I'm sorry... I'm sorry I did this to you. All of this. Including this idiotic fight." Then took a shaky breath and makes himself say it. "I love you," he said. "I just want to be around you. You know, you and the others-- you saved me from a living nightmare, and I genuinely appreciate it. I probably got what was coming to me." He ought to thank Goro too. Mishka had caught on, from listening to people, that Goro was the tactician and leader behind most of this. "Look, I can't sleep in the fucking bunk room, it's too-- open. Can you-- I mean, can we just steal a bed from somewhere? Put it in your room?" He needed to get Hansel to bed before the man collapsed. He didn't think he could get Hansel into a hammock on his own. Izzy: at 8:37 PM Hansel stared down at him. His jaw was tight; he didn't think he could talk. Mishka always fucking did this to him -- spun him around. He never knew what he meant, or what he wanted, or what he was doing or going to do. It should make him fucking furious. But some of the tension bled out of him when Mishka touched his face, and he dropped his head to rest his forehead against Mishka's and closed his eyes for a moment, making himself breathe. "There's a private room no one's using," he mumbled, eyes still closed. He wanted to argue over what Mishka deserved, but he didn't have the energy. He just wanted to go to bed. He wanted to throw Mishka over his shoulder and carry him to some room -- any goddamn room -- and listen to his husband's heartbeat and fucking sleep. "It's just got the one bed. We can -- we can steal it if you want." His voice was coming out soft now. Mishka did that to him, too. He pulled back, opening his eyes again, taking Mishka's hands away from his face to hold them. "Or just use it." Coyote: at 8:50 PM Oh no. For about thirty seconds, Mishka couldn't talk, which had never actually happened to him before. He just stood there, feeling his face slowly getting hotter. Was Hansel seriously suggesting they ought to-- well-- was he? Ideas: A lot of them. Problems: Hansel was fucking exhausted. Mishka wanted that (fuck, he wanted that, and had no self-control when it came to that). He'd give his right arm to have that again. Mishka swallowed, hard. He was weak and selfish, and even though he felt like Hansel was only offering to help take care of him and calm him down, he was still dying to take the offer. With the last bit of self-control he had, he said: "Look, I want to, but-- you ought to-- fuck. Hansel, you need to get some sleep. Can we just-- can we just lie in bed and talk? And... hold each other, a bit." He wrapped his arms around Hansel's back. "I just want you to," and he struggled here again, not sure how to put the truth into words. Not sure what the truth was. "I just want to help you with some of this. I just want you to need me, alright? I want to-- do what you need." Izzy: at 9:04 PM Hansel burst out laughing. "Fuckin' Eldath, Mishka, that's what I fucking meant. I'm exhausted. For fuck's sake." God, fucking figured that was where his mind had gone. Those few days they'd had together at Mishka's estate -- he hadn't been particularly transparent about what he'd wanted then, staring at Hansel like it was ten years ago and Hansel had just signed onto the Red Blade. Hansel hadn't acknowledged the looks. He'd intended to make Mishka ask for it, before things had gone so fucking wrong. If he weren't dead on his goddamn feet now -- well, he didn't know. It was moot. He rested his lips against the top of Mishka's head, still smiling. "Don't be fucking stupid. I already need you, ahuvi. I just want you with me. That makes ... everything easier." It was fucking inexplicable. Mishka complicated everything and made half of it worse. But it was still easier to deal with if he was around, somehow. Coyote: at 9:06 PM "Oh, fuck you," Mishka said, amused. "You did that on purpose. Jackass." Izzy: at 9:07 PM "It's not my fault your mind's always in the fucking gutter." Coyote: at 9:07 PM "It absolutely is your fault my mind is always in the fucking gutter." Hansel was the person who put it there. Izzy: at 9:09 PM "Fuck, Mishka." He pulled back, dropping a hand to grab his husband's and drag him towards the stairs. "Let's go to bed. I'm too fucking tired to banter. I'll beat you at it in the morning." Coyote: at 9:10 PM "Fair." Mishka stopped him, though. Had to finish what he meant to say before. "Look-- that thing about you-- the thing about you telling, ah, Roddy-- turtle kid-- that I was full of shit and telling me to stop talking." Izzy: at 9:11 PM Hansel stopped and waited for him to go on. Coyote: at 9:17 PM "Look, I realize it's fucking dumb saying this, because you did the exact same thing with Goro," Mishka said. "Offering to give him my mask-- my property-- without asking, and selling me out and telling him I was full of shit. And I didn't mind it, then. I thought it was funny. But that was different. That's Goro, you know, that's-- different." Then he mulled it over, tried to figure out why the second incident gave him a panic attack but the first incident turned into a fun game. If Goro got the mask, then Goro probably would've bullshitted around with him a while, made him work and argue for the mask back, and Goro.... would've likely given the mask back, eventually. Or maybe Goro would've just kept it-- that would've been fine, too. Either way, it would've been a game. It would've been fun. And Goro already knew Mishka was full of shit. Goro felt safe-ish, like ground Mishka was still feeling out. Roddy was a stranger. "I don't know that person, I suppose, is what I'm saying," Mishka said carefully. "The turtle kid. Look, can you just let me keep the bullshit sometimes? I felt in control for a second, and I needed that, and I feel like you took it away from me." Izzy: at 9:27 PM "All right," Hansel said slowly. "Mishka, I was never gonna give fuckin' Goro your mask. I just wanted him sit down. If he'd won I would've told him he was out of fuckin' luck. I know the thing's important to you." Even if he didn't understand it. Fucking Goro wasn't going to be the one to hold Mishka's mask hostage. Only he got to do that. Only if Mishka wanted him to. "But look, what happens when you end up using the rapier around Roddy, and it fuckin' works fine? Then he knows you lied to him. For no fucking reason -- not one he'd understand. You can't say this shit when it's going to come back on you." He hesitated. "I mean, I get it. I didn't mean to ... I'm not trying to just undermine you all the time. I could've handled that better, I'm sorry. But it was gonna cause more problems down the line, you know?" Coyote: at 9:28 PM "Hansel, if I'm in a group, I don't need to use the rapier," Mishka said. "It's an emergency thing. It's not supposed to be used." That was part of it. You weren't supposed to tell people or show people the tricks you had up your sleeve. He thought this was obvious. He wouldn't use the rapier around Roddy, because Mishka would never use it around anyone, usually. He thought about explaining this, then, exasperated, realized there wasn't a point. Hansel had no manipulative or deceptive spirit at all. He had been trying to help, though. Hansel had. While Mishka was... scattered, and trying to figure shit out. "I mean, that's a fair point," he muttered. "That's not how I do things, though. Alright, alright. Look, next time I'll let you handle it first if you-- know them better than me. Fair?"(edited) Izzy: at 9:36 PM Hansel wanted to ask If you don't need it when you're in a group, then why can't Roddy have it, but that was too presumptuous -- assuming Mishka would stay with the group indefinitely. Of course he wouldn't. He'd want to be alone again. He didn't want a crew. He didn't want -- Hansel made himself stop thinking it. "Fair." He tried to joke -- "I'll tell you to shut up in orcish next time." Coyote: at 9:42 PM "It's a hardship. You've twisted my arm. But I'll endure," Mishka said. "Like the stoic hero in those old epics. Patient. Kind. Enduring." Izzy: at 9:45 PM Hansel snorted. This was easier. "Yeah. Enduringly on my goddamn nerves." He tugged on Mishka's hand again. "I ain't fuckin' askin' again. Let's go to bed." Coyote: at 9:52 PM Mishka went up the stairs, as requested. Easy. One of the rooms was empty, and instead of moving the bed, they both just collapsed there. Mishka didn't even bother taking off his boots. Hansel pulled him close, and Mishka pressed his face to Hansel's shoulder, and for a moment, Mishka just lay there and breathed. He had no fucking clue how he was going to sleep beside Hansel regularly. In bed. Alone. Oh well. He'd have to be stoic about it. Enduring. Maybe he could actually win this one this time. Probably not, but-- well, Mishka didn't mind losing. He just liked playing the game. end Category:Text Roleplay